


Mirror Mirror

by rainygalaxynerd



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bodyswap, Dean is a woman, F/M, Fluff and Crack, Reader is Dean, Spells & Enchantments, Talking Penis, Witches, illusion spell, sex while being opposite sexes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:19:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6362908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainygalaxynerd/pseuds/rainygalaxynerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fucking witches. This is a torturous, embarrassing and very educational experience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mirror Mirror

Madam Morgana; a small town witch with bloody office hours. There had been… incidents lately. No fatalities so far, but it was only a matter of time. She needed to lay off the hexes. You and Dean had left Sam in the bunker, using the need to talk some sense into this woman as an excuse to get some alone time. Unfortunately, as soon as you entered her small shop, she had thrown a musky smelling powder at you both. Bloody witch, with her bloody powder, switching your bodies. It had worked too; you had been too confused by your sudden tallness and extra muscle (and the missing feeling of your boobs bouncing ) to give chase. Apparently the bouncing boobs had rendered Dean as incapacitated as yourself.

Confounded and strangely embarrassed, you had hurried back to your motel room. Now you were just staring at each other, wondering what the hell to do next. You caught a glimpse in the mirror: green eyes, masculine jawline, spiky hair and stubble. You shook your head, transfixed by Dean’s face reflecting back at you. As he (you?) walked over to cradle your face between too small and delicate fingers, you suddenly started laughing. Dean gave a ringing girly laugh too.  
“This will probably wear off soon, sweetheart,” you heard your own voice say with all the smoothness of Dean’s trademark smirk. “What do you say we have some fun with it? I mean you’ve never been hotter…”  
You punched his shoulder lightly, grinning.  
“Ouch. Careful with the muscle you oaf.” The comment was so you that you couldn’t help howling with laughter.  
“Sorry,” you managed after taking a couple of deep breaths. 

You reached out, marveling at the sensation of touching the smooth skin of your own face with those big hands of his. Something tightened in your pants and you looked down in wonder at the bulge that had appeared suddenly, without warning  
“See? See what I have to deal with, being around you?” Dean was no less bitchy for having a woman’s voice, and you laughed again. Then you kissed him, doing your best to do his full lips justice, exploring your own mouth with his tongue. It was a whole new level of weird, even for you, but somehow it didn’t matter, because you were INSIDE Dean’s body, the body you had admired so many times from the outside, and today you could show him what he made you feel.  
You let a hand slide around the back of his head, carting your fingers through the long hair, pulling slightly. You broke the kiss and stooped over to nibble at his neck, where you knew it would send shivers down his spine. Such a strange thing to have to bend down to touch him there, when you usually stood on your tiptoes for that. He tried to play it cool; tried not to show how much it affected him. But you knew your own body. You knew exactly what to look for.  
“See what I have to put up with, being around you?” You tried to use that husky tone of his that always went straight to your core, and it worked. His eyes widened and before you knew it, he had grabbed your biceps and pushed you off balance, sending you down on the bed behind you. He crawled up over you, straddling you; Dean in your slight body, with curves you had never before had the opportunity of viewing in this way. You caught yourself hoping the spell wouldn’t wear out just yet.

Amazing as it was to lie there, registering the different ways arousal felt in a man’s body compared to your own, there were definitely things you wanted to do while you had the chance. Grabbing his wrists, you manhandled Dean to lie beneath you, pinning his hands above his head, the way he sometimes did to tease you. You were in control and you felt so powerful. Dean had never done anything to you that you didn’t want, had never taken from you. For the first time you realized how easy he could do just that if he wanted to. By the sudden shock in his eyes, so did he.  
“It’s okay, Dean. It’s me, I’ve got you.” Reluctantly you let one of his hands go and felt him relax somewhat. With a grin, he palmed the bulge in your pants and you let out a surprised yelp. “How do guys walk around with something so sensitive in such a vulnerable position all the time? How the hell do you fight monsters?” He grinned at you.  
“Because we’re a lot braver than you give us credit for.”

His hand moved up to rest at the back of your head and he pulled you in for another kiss. He wrapped his legs around your waist and arched upwards, grinding against your crotch. You couldn’t help moaning and moving your hips to follow him. The friction was both frightening and delicious. Having a cock was a very strange experience indeed. You regretfully pulled back from him and stood up.  
“Are we doing this? For real?” you asked him. He sat up looking at you, long hair all messy and Y/E/C eyes instead of green (though equally expressive) looking back at you.  
“Don’t see why not,” he said with a small smile.  
“Good.” You started taking off your clothes - well technically his clothes, but that was way too confusing to keep track of. Now you just wanted to see him try to unhook your bra on his own.

Eventually you took pity on him and gave him a hand. He huffed loudly at his own failure at the seemingly simple task. You didn’t stop to consider his feelings because .. boobs. Of course you knew them pretty much inside out, (they were yours after all). But this time it wasn’t your breath hitching or your back arching upwards when fingers closed around the soft flesh, kneading and stroking the nipples. Somehow that made all the difference. Now you could kiss them, tease them with lips, tongue and teeth. So you did. Watching your own face thrown back with the pleasure from being touched and knowing that it was Dean feeling that pleasure and you doing the touching almost gave you a headache, but it didn’t hurt your head as much as it ached further down.

As if he had read your mind, Dean took the cock in his hands, and you gasped and you shook all over, overwhelmed by the sensation. It took you a few moments to come to terms with it and when you did, it felt amazing. Before you lost yourself completely, you did a reality check. You could tell by the look in Dean’s eyes how strange this felt to him. What was he doing, really? Did this count as jerking off or was he giving a guy a handjob? Was this gay or straight, since he was in a woman’s body? Overthinking this was definitely a mood killer and while all those concerns were probably valid and should be explored, you decided that there would be time for that after the spell wore off. Smiling to yourself, you let a hand wander down the well known curves to where you knew you would be able to thoroughly distract him.

Your fingers slid through the wet folds playfully. Dean closed his eyes and gave in to the new sensations. You decided you wanted to taste - you wouldn’t have done it if it wasn’t for the fact that you knew you’d regret it years from now if you didn’t try. You kissed your way from his neck, down across the breasts, pausing to tease and suckle a little, further down _and hey, you should totally get a piercing in your belly button_. Smiling to yourself, you trailed kisses on Dean’s inner thighs, breathing in the smell. You had to admit to yourself that it was different from how you imagined it. Apparently it changed somewhere between its origin and where your nose and mouth usually existed, became more bitter somehow. Because, you thought, as you experimentally dipped a tongue in, here it was sweet. Still foreign tasting, certainly not possible to mistake for something edible, but far more delicious than you had previously believed.

You had never been in this position before; you weren’t bisexual, you had no experience with women. Dean, on the other hand, was a virtuoso. You figured all you had to do was stop thinking and let his mouth and hands do the work. You closed your eyes and tried to give in to instinct. Apparently that didn’t work very well.  
“Ow,” Dean practically howled and scrambled away from you.  
“I’m so sorry, what did I do wrong?” You were horrified by your own incompetence. You KNEW what an amateur fumbling down there felt like, how awful it could be. Dean’s breaths were short and ragged.  
“How the hell should I know what you did wrong? It fucking hurt,” he grumbled, managing to really sound like himself despite the feminine voice.  
_'It’s over now,'_ you thought to yourself. _'I blew it.'_ Surprisingly, Dean suddenly laughed heartily.  
“You know what? I think I’ve made that mistake sometime when I was younger. I remember thinking the girl must be overreacting. Now I’m really glad I didn’t say so out loud.” You laughed with him.  
“Yeah, maybe I should hope this lasts long enough for you to try the full fertility package. There are so many things you’ll never have the heart to tease me with again.” Dean’s laughter cut off abruptly.  
“I don’t think that’s necessary, thank you,” he muttered. “Why don’t I show you why I love it when you blow me?” And THAT, was a wonderful idea, you thought. He couldn’t be worse at it than you, right?

Dean had you lie down on your back and crawled between your legs. You looked down at yourself and bit your lip. Somehow Dean’s body was just as much a turn-on even when you were in it, as it had always been. You caught his eyes as he hesitated between your legs. Somehow he managed to look shy and embarrassed yet playful, looking up at you through his lashes.  
“Dean, you don’t have to, you know that right?” Even as you said it, you felt something down there twitch. He grabbed the cock you still hadn’t quite come to terms with and started stroking it expertly. You lost the ability to speak; zero control over your breath and vocal chords being one reason, and being unable to focus enough to form complete sentences the other.  
“Sweetheart, you just went down on yourself. What can I say? Challenge accepted.” You tried to chuckle, but somehow ended up growling because every nerve in this body seemed to go through the cock that was now inside Dean’s mouth. You felt his tongue playing at the tip of it, felt him suck at it, all the while he continued to grip around the base and stroke the part of it that wasn’t in his mouth. The sensations were purely physical and intense in a way you had never known before.

“Dean stop, I’m gonna..” you whispered hoarsely. He paused to look up at you, licking his lips. He swallowed visibly and blinked slowly before nodding. “Okay,” he said then and went back to work. You fought the haze of pleasure and gently pushed him away.  
“Dean I’m not gonna do that to you. Besides I want to fuck you. If you’ll let me, that is.” He smiled. It was your smile but it was also his. It was that smile that usually made your knees go weak, as effective as Sam’s puppy eyes.  
“I know what that body is capable of, honey. We’ll fuck, don’t worry. But since I’ve already crossed more lines than I ever thought I would, I want you to understand why it is exactly, that men - and by men, I mean myself in particular - loves it when a girl swallows."  
You should probably be angry with him. If you had been in your own body, this would have landed him a solid punch to the gut. But he was still smiling, his eyes twinkling and despite all his teasing, he was the one that would have to swallow so what was there to be angry about?  
“Fine,” you said. “But if you end up barfing afterwards, you’ll have to clean it up yourself. Remember this is your own stupid idea.” 

Dean threw his head back and laughed. It wasn’t the sound of his usual belly laugh that emerged but a noise possibly resembling the desperate cries of a drowning hyena. It turned out to be a five minute laughing and giggling break, before the two of you found the way back to what had been going on.  
When the giggling finally subsided and you both were breathing normally again, you simply kissed for a long time. You kissed until it didn’t even feel weird any longer, until it was just the familiar feeling of love and intimacy between the two of you. You cradled Dean’s face between your hands, stunned with how it didn’t even feel like it was your face anymore. It was just Dean, that was the only thing of importance. His tiny hand and soft fingers caressed the stubble on your cheeks and he smirked.  
“Later I’m going to challenge you to shave. Even though I’ll be the one who has to live with the scars.”  
“Yeah sure. Just don’t try to return the favor, okay?” He wiggled his eyebrows at you, a surprisingly masculine gesture that had you dissolving into laughter again.  
“Stop it,” he said sternly, trying to get back in the game. He only made it worse. He was trying to be commanding, to use that tone of voice that always had you begging him to tell you what to do when he used it during sexy times. Otherwise it was just infuriating. Now, it was ridiculous.

You did want to continue exploring the differences between being a man and being a woman, so you pulled yourself together.  
“Okay, I’m good. Sorry.” Dean hrmpf’d before kissing his way down your body again. Upon reaching his destination he stilled abruptly, only to sigh deeply.  
“Something wrong?” You asked him.  
“Well yeah. First of all, Now I have to start all over. Second, I never really considered that it looks like a giant garden slug when it’s just lying like that.”  
“It does, doesn’t it?” You laughed with him. “But now you get to find out what gobbling on a slug feels like AND swallowing the slime. I’m so happy for you.” You skidded downwards and pushed him on his back and kissed him hard. “Why don’t you just call it quits and let’s get to the really fun stuff?” You asked him archly.  
“Are you calling me a quitter?” Dean looked at you stubbornly and something just wasn’t right. Still, he started touching you down there and was about to close his mouth around you when it hit you. Dean and his goddamned self loathing and ability to blame himself for everything, his stupid idea that whatever happened to him, he deserved. You reached down and grabbed him by the shoulders, relishing how easy it was for you to not only stop him but lift him away from your crotch. Within seconds you had him pinned down to the bed again, and the surprise in his eyes, combined with fear and desire, did what his talk about blowing you hadn’t been able to this second time around. You pressed down on him so he could feel it and watched him close his eyes and relax, handing over control completely.  
You didn’t let him go this time but moved his hands so you could pin his wrists above his head with one hand. The other hand caressed his face, thumb ghosting across his lips, index finger gently following his ear’s curves, finally coming to rest along his cheekbone.

“Look at me.” You used ‘the voice’ and marveled at how it made him shiver beneath you. He opened his eyes and kept them trained on yours.  
“I don’t know what’s eating you up this time, Dean, but I’ll have none of it, understand?” He frowned at your words, uncomprehending.  
“I know you’re not simply dying to suck a cock - yours, mine, anyone’s. Especially not after the mood has died. So whatever makes you think you deserve to do it anyway, let it go. Just let it go the fuck away.” He stared at you blankly, eyes slowly filling and soon tears were running down his cheeks. You kissed them all away, wondering if they were all his or if the hormones of your upcoming period next week had something to do with it. You released his hands to stroke his hair and he wrapped his arms around you, gliding his fingertips over your back repeatedly, even as he cried silently.  
After some time with no new tears, but still no words from Dean, you spoke softly. “You okay?” It took him awhile to answer in a broken whisper.  
“Not really. How the hell do girls function, feelings so close to the surface all the time?” he grumbled. You smiled at him.  
“I guess feelings equals dicks,” you said with a wink. “You’re doing fine. You hungry?” Suddenly Dean laughed. “So feelings equals angels?” He shook his head dismissively. “How long have we been like this? Two hours? Three? And I’m already crying and you want to bring me food. We’re not doing much for the sake of feminism here.”  
“We’re not? Proving that the differences between the sexes are purely biological, all physical in some sense or the other; I think that pretty much proves that we’re equal in all our beautiful differences. Now, I’m gonna go get you something from the diner and when I get back, we’ll just netflix and chill.” You smirked to yourself at how that could be understood in more than one way and left it up to him to interpret, while you pulled on a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, remembering in the last minute to grab his wallet instead of your own.

After you got back with a couple of cheeseburgers, you actually did watch TV. Dean ended up curling into your arms and you both decided to enjoy how he fit snugly against you. You felt strong and protective and thought to yourself about how this must be an amazing day off for Dean, to be the one to relax into strong arms and let himself be held tight. You had put on ‘10 Things I Hate About You’ just to see if he would like chick flick movies (and moments) more while being a chick. While hard to say if it was just because the movie was that good or if hormones played a part, Dean sure laughed a lot. Maybe it was just because it was so peaceful and comfortable lying together like this.

The movie ended and you were both comfortable and drowsy. A glimpse at the time told you that you had now been in Dean’s body for almost five hours. It could go either way with a spell like this. You wouldn’t have been surprised if it had reversed within the first fifteen minutes. The next typical amount of time would have been after one hour, or three. Next possible change-back time was five hours, it could be as much as a full twenty four hours or even three days. But the longer a change like this lasted, the more powerful the magic had been. Despite her name, Madam Morgana hadn’t seemed particularly powerful; not even that evil, really. So you were content to spend time with Dean, in a way enjoying that you were kind of excused from doing anything useful. Your feeble attempts at having sex while being swapped around like this had proven to you both that going out into the world and trying to actually fight, would be a horrible, possibly catastrophic idea.

You didn’t really want to fall asleep. There was a good chance you would be back to normal when you woke up and it seemed like such a waste. You realized that you were gently stroking Dean’s shoulder while holding him close. You drew a deep breath and let your other hand tangle in long strands of hair, massaging his scalp. Dean closed his eyes and hummed, seemingly lost in bliss. You had him lie down on his stomach and started rubbing his back tenderly.  
“You know what?” Dean mumbled, voice thick and sleepy.”This is so much more satisfying than having your tiny hands helplessly tickling my back the way you usually do when my back is sore.”  
You didn’t bother answering him, simply applied extra pressure with no effort at all. In seconds Dean was curled up under you, whimpering.  
“I’m sure it was also a lot more satisfying than the torture you usually have me endure when you think you’re helping me ‘loosen up’,” you told him pointedly. You put a finger to his arm mimicking the pressure you just used on his back. “And don’t tell me I’m cheating and doing it harder than you,” you said.  
“Ow,” Dean grumbled, climbing to sit against the headboard, wincing as he made contact with it. “Point taken. From now on loosening you up means touching you the way I do to make you relax. Damn I wish I wasn’t so stubborn that you’d had to do that to make me understand.” You laughed, feeling your heart swell with love for him.

You really should thank that witch. You were learning so much about each other. Like for instance right now, you really needed to pee. You were used to being able to hold it for almost as long as you wanted, and just going when it was convenient. It wasn’t that you felt you were going to soak your pants, it was just more urgent.  
“Something wrong, sugar?” Dean asked worriedly.  
“Nope, just gotta go. Trying to decide whether to leave the seat up or down.”  
“Right. Just remember - no aim bot on that gun.”  
“Dude.” You left him snickering behind you. Dean waited, holding his breath. Suddenly the deep rumbling voice echoed from the bathroom.  
“Split stream?! What the hell?” Dean howled with laughter.

When you finally returned, your facial expression equaled a thunderstorm.  
“My hands will forever feel dirty,” you grumbled. Dean giggled.  
“You know I’ll never take you serious again after hearing you make that girly sound, right?” He looked abashed.  
“I’m never going to be able to take myself serious again, thank you very much,” he said and added. “I’m bored. Can’t we go after the witch and finish this hunt already?” You smiled, knowing he wasn’t totally serious.  
“Hey, you’re not the one who literally just pissed on your hands. I think you can stand a bit more humiliation before going nuts.” You gave him a sly look beneath those curly long eyelashes you’d always envied. Seconds later he was kissing you, crawling into your lap as you sat on the bed, wrapping your arms tightly around him.  
“It’s kind of nice, you know,” you gasped after a heated make-out session.  
“What is?”  
“That smooth skin. Your stubble burns when we kiss.” Dean grinned almost wolfishly, a strange expression on a girl’s face.  
“I noticed. I kinda like it though. Changed my mind about that shaving challenge.”  
“Dean, if this ends up with you ditching me for a guy because you want stubble and dicks, I’m not just killing that witch, I’m fucking tearing her apart.” He laughed, careful not to do the hyena thing again.  
“Don’t worry, sweetheart. I only have eyes for you. And me, apparently.”  
“Mmmh,” you said, carding your fingers through his long hair, quickly losing yourself again in the feeling of being close to him. It was as if the more time passed, the less you thought about the fact that Dean was in a woman’s body and even less about how it was really your body. Something about that made you worry. Shouldn’t you be eager to get back to normal? Why weren’t you both deeply buried in research on how to reverse the spell? How could you be so sure that it would be over soon without actually _knowing_? Then Dean started palming you through your pants and everything else was forgotten. Yeah, no wonder guys often ended up letting their dicks make decisions for them. This felt goooood.

Shrugging off the hoodie and kicking off the pants, you crawled up next to Dean. It felt less awkward now, desire leading the way as you had gotten more used to the extra features of this body. Your hands roamed freely, and the kisses you shared were sloppy and hungry. Soon you were reaching for a condom in Dean’s duffel. You knew how to put it on and wasted no time in doing so. It felt as if it trapped the cock inside of it, it felt constricting, but you didn’t care. It was a necessary evil because there was no way you were going to return to your own body later and have to go through a pregnancy you caused yourself. If you EVER wanted to get pregnant you’d make damned sure to have a man to blame and yell at whenever hormones demanded so.  
“You ready?” You asked him nervously.  
“I think so,” he smiled. You pushed into him slowly and almost forgot to really _feel_ it, while watching the wonder on his face. Then you noticed the warmth, the less uncomfortable tightness and you moaned, carefully trying to hold still until you were sure Dean was ready.  
“Wauw,” he said softly. “This is.. This is very different.”  
“In a good way?” You asked him. He grinned.  
“Move and I’ll tell ya.”  
You started moving, slowly at first. It kind of tickled but in a non-ticklish way. And it was just completely opposite of what you were used to. Which, duh, shouldn’t be such a big surprise after all.  
“Faster,” Dean panted. You moved faster, still caught up in feeling good despite the wrongness.  
“Harder,” he said, pulling against your ass to get more weight behind your thrusts. You remembered the feeling of being literally fucked into a mattress by Dean and smirked at him before pounding into him repeatedly.  
“It’s so good,” you murmured, biting his earlobe and enjoying his expression of blissful disbelief.  
Things were coming to a head, you felt everything tightening, felt the cannon load, so to speak.  
“I’m gonna actually fucking cum inside you any second now,” you told Dean in a frantic whisper.  
“Jesus fuck,” he said. “I wanna feel it.” His eyes locked on yours and you kissed him, still pounding into him.  
When you felt the spasms begin, you had to force yourself to keep moving. It was sensory overload, completely overwhelming how so many nerves could be tingling in such a (relatively) small place. Seconds later Dean closed his eyes and your name fell from his lips as you felt him squeezing around your cock, still buried inside him. When he finally came down a bit, he started chuckling.  
“God I hope it only looks like that when I’m coming, when it’s you in there.” You laughed with him.  
“Probably,” you conceded. “You looked lovely, so I guess it’s all me.”  
“Dammit,” he lamented. “You always look lovely. It shouldn’t be part of what a guy has to live through, to see his own cum-face.”

You and Dean cuddled for a while. Until you remembered those disturbing thoughts you’d had before things got out of hand.  
“Dean we should probably be thinking about contingency plans. It’s been ten hours so far, and yeah it’s probably just a 24 hour whammy but if it isn’t… Her tracks are getting cold.” Dean sighed heavily.  
“Fuck you. Can’t I just enjoy this? I really have to work?” You gave him the look that said _‘I have zero tolerance for your lazy ass bullshit, Winchester’_ but apparently that look didn’t suit this face. Not if Dean’s laughter was any indication.  
“That’s it,” you told him finally. “I’m calling Sam.” The laughter died abruptly.  
“No. No. Don’t. You can’t.. Don’t call him, Y/N. Don’t do that to me.”  
“You got any idea how to put us back to normal?”  
“We just wait.”  
“No. We don’t. And I’m calling Sam.”  
“Everything was fine until five minutes ago. What the hell, were you only interested in sex???” Dean looked outraged. You quirked an eyebrow at him.  
“Well yes? And just once, too. I’m all for one-night-stands, you know that, Sugar.” You grinned at him cheekily. “Or,” you said, taking his hand and squeezing it, “sex reminded me how much I miss being us together when you’re really you and I’m really me.”  
“Fine, be like that.” He sounded like one of the Pretty Little Liar-girls, all huffy and offended. Why was that funny? It shouldn’t be. You sat down next to him.  
“Spill, Dean. What’s wrong?” He looked down at the carpet instead of meeting your eyes.  
“You didn’t like it. I’m not good enough for you.” He muttered. You simply looked at him disbelievingly. Dean, insecure about sex? Needing reassurance? You were about to launch a motivational rant of praise, when you realized he was playing you.  
“Dean, I’m calling Sam. Get over it, you manipulative asshat.”  
“Fuck.”

Dean scrambled for the phone but he was too slow. You immediately found Sam in the contacts list and hit the call button, while swatting Dean off as he tried to retrieve the phone before it was too late.  
“Hey Dean. What’s up?” Beside you, Dean’s struggles dissolved into a quiet whimper. You decided to try not to embarrass him too much and did your best to talk the way Dean talked to his brother.  
“Sam, hey. You know the witch Y/N and I went to talk to? Any idea where she might hole up if she found out someone was tailing her?”  
“Dean, you supposedly went to Madam Morgana’s this morning. What have you been doing all day?” Looking over at Dean, you smirked, and allowed a small chuckle escape your lips.  
“Ugh Dean, gross. You guys shouldn’t even be working together if you can’t focus on the job.” Sam sounded exasperated. If he only knew the truth, he would probably … yeah, he’d sound exactly the same.  
“We went this morning, she tried to run, we almost got her, and she zapped us. Now please be useful and tell me where to find her.”  
“She zapped you? Dean what happened? Is Y/N okay?”  
“We’re fine, Sam, just leave it alone. I want to talk to Madam Mim. Tell her not to zap people before even knowing what they want.”  
“Okay okay, don’t yell at me, I didn’t zap you. I’ll look into it.”  
“Thanks.” You hung up and and fixed your eyes on a very relieved looking Dean.  
“Now what?” You smiled.  
“Don’t think I’ve forgiven you. Even if you did good.”  
The phone rang and Dean nearly answered it unthinkingly. You yanked it away from him before it was too late.  
“Yeah?”  
“There’s been a strange occurrence a couple of hours ago. Just saw it. Figured you might wanna know.”  
“Then spit.”  
“Right. Ehm. So a woman walked down the main street naked. Not a scratch on her, no signs that anything’s happened but she’s delirious, keeps talking about being powerless. I dug up the police file, what’s online already that is. ‘Morgana stole my powers’. That’s what she kept saying.”  
“Awesome. This is no longer a friendly chat, it’s a hunt. You comin’?”  
“Loading up the car,” Sam said. You sighed, careful not to let him hear.  
“See you.”

Before Dean could rip you a new one, you told him the development of the case. Much as he hated it, he had to admit it was true. He didn’t want you anywhere near a real hunt but now he couldn’t avoid it. Either your body or your mind would be in danger or his brother would be unprotected. He slammed his fist into a pillow in frustration.  
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” he kept saying. You kissed him then, determined to take his mind off things. You let your hands slide down his sides to cup his ass, tugging lightly. He gave in and let you lift him, his legs hugged around your waist. He was so light, and he seemed to fit there perfectly; like a tailor made extension of yourself. You held him up effortlessly, kissing him everywhere except on the mouth. Finally tiring of your teasing, Dean released his hands from the death grip around your shoulders and grabbed your head instead, making sure the next kiss hit home and stayed.

It would be at least six hours until Sam could get here, and while you probably should hit the police station, the library, start interviewing witnesses and stalking the Internet, neither of you could bring yourself to stop the impromptu make-out session. You were about to suggest bed or shower, when the phone went off again. Dean let you go and went to sit on the bed, tapping his fingers nervously.  
“Dammit, what now?” You hissed, mimicking the irritation you knew Dean would channel in this situation.  
“Stop being gross and head over to the precinct,” Sam said. “Don’t waste all the time until I get there.”  
“Whatever.” You hung up. Dean gave you a big smile.  
“You should be an actor. It’s uncanny how well you know me.”  
“Don’t take this the wrong way, Dean, but in most situations you’re fairly predictable.” His eyes glinted mischievously as he stood up to run a hand across your chest.  
“Is that so?”  
“Yeah. Now suit up, we gotta go or there’ll be hell to pay when Sam gets here.” You said it with no small amount of regret at losing his lingering touch.

Officer Henley was more than mildly baffled at the feds. He just didn’t see what prompted them to think this was related to any open federal cases. It was as small town stupid as it could get, a lesbian love affair turned sour. When he saw Agent Vincent grabbing Agent Young’s ass, he almost decided to give their credentials a more thorough check. He couldn’t blame Agent Vincent though. Had he met Agent Young in a gay bar a few towns over, he sure wouldn’t have passed up a chance to touch.  
“I’m sorry,” he said as politely as he could muster, “Miss Kerman went home two hours ago, utterly distraught by the events. Everything that happened is in the report. You will not disturb her.” Henley gave a fierce glare first at Agent Vincent and then at Agent Young to stress his point.

You held back a frustrated sigh at officer Henley’s vehement command that you leave the victim alone. The information that you needed weren’t in the damned report. Instinct kicked in. Slowly you leaned over the counter to look deeply into Henley’s grey eyes. Behind you, Dean’s mouth worked furiously before snapping shut, unable to think of something to say.  
“Listen, Officer Henley,” you said in a voice dripping honey and unspoken promises, “I completely understand your concern for Miss Kerman. It’s admirable. What you’re forgetting is, that we’re professionals. If the information we need was in the report, we wouldn’t bother her.” Keeping eye contact, you covered Henley’s hand with yours seductively. “I promise you that we will be careful and considerate and only ask those few questions that haven’t been answered by this otherwise outstanding report.” Officer Henley was staring at you with wide eyes. Behind you, Dean was spluttering. Always so jealous, that man. Henley used his other hand to scribble an address for you and hand it over.  
“Will you be back later, Agent?” he asked, obviously hopeful.  
“Certainly.” You gave him a sultry smile before turning around to saunter off.

Taking the first step and feeling the disappointment of wearing flat shoes, when heels were called for, memory hit you. Hard. Body swap. You looked to Dean, Dean being the female counterpart of your FBI-counterfeit-partnership. Dean being the one who should have been flirting with Henley. Dean being the one, who was looking equally terrified, pissed and relieved. Dean who, the second the doors to the station closed behind you, got up close and personal, virtually screeching at you.  
“What the hell were you thinking?” He yelled and you flinched a little before thinking better of it.  
“Nothing really, I just reacted on instinct.” You smiled as innocently as you could. “The way it worked, I doubt it would have been quite as effective if _you_ had tried to flirt the information away from him.” Dean did a surprisingly accurate impersonation of a goldfish, before finally settling for a sour “you got lucky.” You laughed.  
“Luck has nothing to do with it, come on LOOK at me. You. Whatever. Let’s just go.”

Dean hardly spoke to you during the drive. He cursed a lot because driving the Impala with shorter legs was apparently a problem. You huffed a little to yourself. Figures that now he wouldn’t let you drive again, ever. Upon arriving at your destination, Dean purposefully led the way to the front door. He wasn’t trusting you not to embarrass him again, it seemed. When no one answered the door, you didn’t need to discuss the next move. You moved around the house to peek through the windows to try to determine if anyone was home and possibly unable to answer the door. The kitchen and living room were clear. When you got around to the back a look through the window to the bedroom had you both standing with your jaws on the ground. Miss Kerman, it seemed, was a witch herself.

She was sitting in front of an altar, crying and screaming hysterically.  
“Please, please come back to me. I can’t go on without you,” she was saying repeatedly. Looking around the room, you spotted several ingredients that would have probably been used in the hexes you came to town to put a stop to. The two of you shared a look, before going back front.  
“So Miss Kerman was the witch doing hexes.” Dean said. “But Madam Morgana somehow hurt her. Made her unable to use magic, by the looks of it. Plus she whammied us. Now what?”  
“I don’t know. I’m confused. This one probably isn’t a threat though. We should focus on Morgana.”  
“We could go back to her place to and try to find someone who knows her.”  
You both went back to the Impala. You went to the driver’s side and held out your hand for the keys, not really expecting Dean to hand them over. True to form, he just went around you, got in the car and turned on the ignition.  
“You comin’?” He said dryly. You smiled and walked to the passenger’s side.  
“Does this mean I get to drive when I’m the woman?”  
“You wish.” The engine sputtered and died, and Dean spewed a vile string of curses.  
“You’re a real lady, aren’t you? My little ray of sunshine.” You teased him mildly, ignoring the glare he gave you.

On the way to Madam Morgana’s small shop, your stomach started to grumble insistently. You didn’t even have to say anything, Dean just took the next left turn towards the closest diner. You eyed him suspiciously when he didn’t order his usual cheeseburger and french fries.  
“You don’t think there’s too much green in that sandwich?” You asked him curiously.  
“More like too much bread,” came the reply. Then he stopped eating, eyes going round. “I’m turning into a chick. I mean I’m turning into you. Make it stop,” he almost whimpered. Meanwhile you bit into your cheeseburger and felt heaven explode on your tastebuds.  
“This is amazing,” you moaned. Belatedly Dean’s concern registered in your blissed out brain. “Okay this is not good. We so need to find Morgana.” Dean nodded his agreement, but continued to eat his sandwich slowly, putting some of the bread aside. At least this complication heightened the odds of successfully deceiving Sam.

The little shop was empty, still unlocked. It couldn’t have too many customers, despite how long it had been, no one had even been to empty the register of cash. Together you went through post-it notes, receipts, a calendar (the moon’s phases carefully marked) and a list of contacts no one should be upholding in this digital age. You found a home address and waited for Sam back at the motel, hoping that Morgana would be there. Waiting was nice. Kisses were exchanged, body parts were properly tended. Forget nice, it was awesome. Sex with Dean was always awesome and you were getting better at the upside-down edition. Practice makes perfect. Yup.

You shouldn’t have been surprised by Sam almost knocking the door down while you were enjoying a round of post coital cuddling that would probably turn into foreplay any second. Oh how time flies and all that. Boy did he looked pissed when you opened the door while simultaneously shrugging on a T-shirt.  
“Hiya Sammy,” you tried, covering up your embarrassment the best you could. Sam looked down.  
“I’m not talking to you until you’re wearing pants, jerk.” Of course. You resisted the urge to smack your own forehead and went looking for pants, hopefully looking as nonchalant as you would have, if you hadn’t been a man. With the boxers filled up with half hard junk. Fuck.

Dean was hiding under the bedding, staring daggers at his brother.  
“Bitch,” he muttered, loud enough for Sam to hear. Your neck prickled as you recognized the exchange. You should have said that. Carefully gauging Sam’s reaction, you breathed a quiet sigh of relief. He looked a bit nonplussed but ready to let it go. As soon as you were dressed, you grabbed Sam by the arm and dragged him outside to wait. Just as Dean had done on countless earlier occasions. Normally Sam would be overly civil towards you but this time you were facing down the mother of all bitch faces. Dean would make some bad joke to piss him off even more but you couldn’t do it. You weren’t used to Sam’s wrath, what you were used to was being a lot smaller and feeling so very breakable near the gentle giant. You tried desperately to hide the fear you felt at the prospect of being on the receiving end of a Sam telling-off.  
Sam opened his mouth but paused, looking closer.  
“Something wrong?” He asked. You shook your head violently. Dean was going to be so angry if you fucked up and Sam found out. Just then, the door to the motel room opened, and Dean sauntered up to you. His hair was a mess and you could tell by the perky nipples denting his blouse that he wasn’t wearing a bra. He went straight to you and put his arms around your waist. He knew exactly how you were feeling and his concern touched you. Still, you wished he had taken time to get properly dressed and ready because bed-hair and nipples? Very distracting and also somehow strangely embarrassing.  
“Let’s get this show on the road,” you said and remembered only at the last second to head for the driver’s side of the Impala. Dean went to get in behind you and snuck the keys into your hand, giving you the worst ‘you mess with my baby, you die-glare’ he could manage. It looked ridiculous but somehow you weren’t laughing. You wished you could have relied just a little on muscle memory but that didn’t work out earlier, so it would be too much to hope for.

Sam threw odd glances your way every other minute of the entire drive. You kept staring straight ahead and focused on driving as smoothly as possible. Dean didn’t flick your earlobes or anything so hopefully it was okay; or maybe he was just waiting until his Baby was safe. Suddenly you heard a tearing noise from the back seat and you realized that Dean had just made the loudest fart YOUR nice and girly ass had ever produced. You wanted to yell, to slap the back of his head; but Sam would guess everything in an instant, if you did that. You forced a laugh.  
“Hey Y/N don’t mess up the leather,” you said, gritting your teeth.  
“Sorry,” Dean said quietly, looking down and managing to actually look embarrassed. He should be you thought, your knuckles white from gripping the wheel, when you realized his becoming blush was from trying hard not to laugh.

Parking a little down the street, the three of you made your way up to the house, scouting it from behind the neighbor’s rose bushes. Sam spotted someone moving upstairs, and you debated sneaking or boldly approaching. Finally, you decided that you and Dean would walk up to the front door and knock while Sam looked for a way in the back. It was not without a certain degree of trepidation that you rapped on the door. Passing the time, you let your eyes take in the surroundings; It was a nice suburban house, colored a soft shade of pink with a neat paint job, probably no more than a few months old. Not a single weed dared defy the carefully kept garden. It looked a lot more like the house of an elderly cat lady, obsessing with her garden instead of cats.

The door unlocked and opened up fast, revealing the dark haired woman that you had barely managed to get a glimpse of, before she threw powder and turned tail earlier. She was wearing an awful lot of jewelry, but she didn’t wear what you would expect from a witch. No ‘new-age outfit’. No, she wore a red cocktail dress as if on her way out to a party. She also wore fishnet stockings and a tantalizing scent of sex. Something was stirring in your pants, taking a distinct interest in the witch. She stared at the two of you. You gawked at her. Dean smacked your shoulder, hard; you inhaled, catching her scent again. You managed to shake out of your stupor.  
“Madam Morgana?” You asked her politely.  
“Can I help you?” She asked, looking like she had never seen you and Dean before. Then she seemed to think better of it. She reached out and touched your face. It felt as if a spark passed from her hand to your cheek. Not letting go of you, she reached out to Dean. Part of you was aware that this was a dangerous situation. You should be taking steps to put some distance between her and the two of you. However, you felt rooted to the spot, and Dean didn’t seem better off. After a few seconds she let go of both of you.  
“Why haven’t you returned to yourselves yet?” she asked, confused. “You shouldn’t have been like this for more than a couple of hours.”  
You looked at Dean, fear gripping you tight. If she didn’t know why things weren’t going back to normal, you were in a dire situation indeed. Dean looked back at you, one eyebrow inquisitively raised. Morgana seemed to register the look between the two of you.  
“Are you two a couple?” she asked incredulously. You nodded. Her eyes went wide and she started to laugh. “You’ve been feeding my spell! Tell me, was it good?”  
“Excuse me?” Dean said and you knew him well enough to know, how those words would have been almost a growl, if he had been in his own body.

Morgana ushered you inside, and soon you both held mugs of hot coffee.  
“You must have researched? Surely you’ve seen my website?” she asked you. In truth you and Dean had been too busy to discover all the differences and similarities between your bodies and enjoying a different view, to bother. Unwise, in retrospect  
“I’m a tantric witch,” she said exasperatedly. “My spells draw power from sex, intimacy and arousal. You two have been having too much fun for it to wear off as it should have done.” Understanding dawned on the two of you. It was hilarious really; and frightening. What would have happened, if you had just kept going?  
“So..” Dean began, “how long do we have to abstain to go back to normal?”  
“How should I know,” Morgana laughed. “How about I just give you a hand?”  
“Why help us?” you asked her. “You did this to us in the first place. Why?”  
“I owe you an apology,” Morgana said, looking honest-to-god bashful. “I knew someone was stirring things up in town and when I saw you entering the shop, I just saw hunters. I was afraid you’d hurt me.”  
“We kind of owe you an apology as well,” you admitted. “We did think you were behind the accidents. We weren’t going to hurt you though, just warn you to back off.”  
“Ah.” Morgana sighed. “Well I took care of the transgressor. I really hate it when witches use their craft to hurt others. It is so not the purpose of our gifts.” 

It was a bit of a revelation; a witch, fighting the good fight. Dean, apparently, was stuck on that thought too.  
“So you’re a.. a good witch?” She smiled deprecatingly.  
“Good, evil. I’d say it’s all about choices. If I know an action will end up hurting someone, I choose another way, if at all possible. I don’t see what would give me the right to make anyone suffer. I strive to help instead.” She stood up slowly. “Allow me to help you, and make right my earlier mistake.”  
Dean looked ready to go, eyeing you hungrily. More likely eyeing his body hungrily. You hesitated. Sure, you wanted things back to normal, but right now you’d feel very uncomfortable in your own body. You never went out without a bra and a hairstyle that at least didn’t scream ‘I just fucked’.  
“How will this work?” you asked, stalling for time.  
“Well, my emergency powder’s all spent, so I’ll have to do it the hands-on way,” Morgana smiled.  
“Hands-on?” Dean queried.  
“My spells need intimacy to work. I’ll move the two of you back in your places with a few careful kisses.” 

That had a tent in your pants up in seconds; the witch was just that hot. But that would be wrong, wouldn’t it? You locked eyes with Dean, tried to glean his opinion from his expression. He seemed to be preoccupied with something else entirely.  
“So the witch, the one who caused the accidents, how did you stop her?” he asked Morgana.  
“I took her power from her while having sex with her.” She held up her hand. “ _Consensual_ sex, I might add.”  
“And what do you plan to do with that power?” There was a dangerous glimmer in Dean’s eyes when he asked that question. Perhaps Morgana wasn’t so good and innocent as she tried to make herself look. Morgana sighed and picked up a small vial from her purse.  
“It’s in here. I’m not going to do anything with it. Tantric witch, remember? What would I use it for? If I open the bottle, the power will seep back to Sandra Kerman and she’ll abuse it again. I’ll just hold onto it. Or you can take it? I’ve got enough clutter as it is.”

In the end you and Dean agreed to let her help you; thinking of all the sex you had had since being hit by her spell, you figured it was either that or an impossible month of celibacy. She had the two of you sit comfortably on her couch, before she kissed you. Her lips were soft, softer than Dean’s; softer than your own. You tried for a chaste closed mouthed kiss but soon found it impossible to resist the seductive dance of her lips and tongue. Suddenly you were looking at the form of Dean’s lifeless body, viewing it from where Morgana stood. She moved over to your body, where Dean was looking rather nervous.  
A muffled crash sounded somewhere behind you. You wanted to spin towards the danger and suddenly understood that you weren’t in control of the body you were currently inhabiting. You were merely a spectator. 

Morgana seemed unaware of anything happening, as she proceeded to kiss your mouth. You felt Dean somehow next to you, disembodied; simply an awareness of worry slowly turning into panic, as Morgana was pulled away from your body before you could return to it. Neither of you had a voice, but you heard Dean clear as day. “Sam.” Then you were both staring up into Sam’s terrifying wrath.  
“What did you do to them, bitch?”  
Morgana flinched, unsure if she would be able to make the raging giant listen and understand. She decided to distract him instead, reaching a hand out to gently tug his earlobe. She whispered a quiet incantation and suddenly Sam was busy contemplating how he was getting a blowjob with his pants on, by some invisible force. She hurried to your body, intent on getting you back where you belonged, but before she could touch you Sam had his fist in her hair.  
“Don’t you dare touch her,” he gasped, his grip like iron despite the distinctly distraught look on his face.

Morgana reached up and tried to kiss him, undoubtedly some spell ready, but Sam was tall enough to avoid her. He made a grab for her hands but she clasped them behind her back and arched into him. Sam was confused. Was she fighting him or trying to seduce him? You and Dean could have told him that with Morgana, those were the same thing. Slipping an arm around Sam’s waist, Morgana touched his crotch lightly. Sam was already distracted by the ethereal blowjob going on down there, but now his fly undid itself, and he felt his cock striving to free itself. Suddenly it was peeking out and a tiny voice could be heard; “I’m freeeee”. Gulping hard, he chanced a look down, to see tiny hands and arms and a face, a fucking face, hanging out of his pants. It’s difficult to judge whether the uppercut Morgana threw him was actually necessary, or if he simply fainted all on his own. She was quick to handcuff him to a radiator, before getting back to work.

She kissed your cooling lips, and you found yourself back in your own body. After a few wonderful breaths, you began the impossible task of untangling your bed hair. You also tried to fit your snug jacket to cover your chest a little better. It felt so wrong not to wear a bra - wrong but comfortable. Morgana was already kissing Dean, and same as you, he celebrated by breathing deeply. You stared at him, his broad shoulders, freckles, spiked hair and sinful lips. His eyes finding yours, taking in your appearance and darkening. Your eyes went to Sam, hoping he was still out cold. Morgana included or not, you just wanted to jump Dean then and there. Sam was looking at Morgana, Dean and you with wide eyes and a ‘WTF-expression’ on his face. You remembered the very surreal moments before you went back into your body, and checked how he was holding up down below. Aside from his fly being open, nothing indicated that the very disturbing rendition of 'Free Willy' had happened.  
“Just an illusion,” Morgana said cheerfully. “Haven’t used that trick since halloween my senior year in college.”

You took pity on Sam and walked over to help him. It felt so weird being yourself again, and you once again tried to pull your jacket closed. You nearly stumbled adjusting to your shorter legs.  
“Everything is fine, Sam,” you told him soothingly. “Sorry you got caught up in this. Remember I told you Morgana whammied us?” Sam frowned. “She was just setting things straight.” Sam’s frown deepened.  
“You didn’t tell me that, Dean did.” You kept your expression carefully blank.  
“That’s what I meant.”

Morgana tossed you the keys for the handcuffs. Lovely fluffy and pink ones too; you couldn’t hold back a snicker as you opened them.  
“Laugh all you want Y/N. I’m gonna find out what the hell has been going on.” Sam smirked at you, though he didn’t quite meet your eyes. He was probably equally embarrassed and curious.  
Dean got to his feet, his hands gliding over his torso and feeling his short hair.  
“Nah, it was nothing, Sammy,” he said. Sam’s sceptical look indicated that Dean wasn’t fooling anybody. You found yourself once again practically drooling over him. Fun as most of this had been, you had really missed him; him as in Dean, the actual man with the equipment to go with the cocky act. 

“You know what, Sam?” you found yourself saying, “I might tell you everything. Most of it anyway. But only if I can get some private time with your brother first.” Sam raised his eyebrows at you.  
“Haven’t you two had enough already?” The frustration in his voice was evident. Dean stepped to your side and offered you his arm.  
“Absolutely not, Sammy,” he said, bowing his head slightly to Morgana, and leading you outside. Morgana watched you go with an amused expression.  
“Don’t be strangers,” she called after you, whatever that was supposed to mean. Sam followed quickly, looking rather terrified to be left behind with her.

Back at the motel, Sam got a room on his own, pointedly asking for the one furthest away from yours and Dean’s. Before leaving you to your devices, he stepped close to you.  
“Remember you promised to tell me,” he said trying to look dangerous. Okay not trying, he was Sam fucking Winchester. Before this day, you would have been scared, even though you knew he was joking. Now, you simply pictured Sam, pink fluffy handcuffs, and a talking dick, and nothing he could say would ever remove that amused smile from your lips. Sam just grinned and walked down the hall; before he was out of sight, Dean’s mouth was on yours. His tongue begged for entrance while he pulled you into your room.  
“This,” he said shakily, “has been sorely missed.” He peppered little kisses all over your face, then nipped at your jawline, your earlobe and continued to suck a mark at your collarbone.  
“Indeed,” you said and couldn’t hold back a moan, as his hand cupped your breast.

You loved the feeling of his strong arms under your hands, as you let them dance over him; across his shoulders, through his short hair, ghosting down over his face and lips, gliding over his firm chest, around his sides to caress the small of his back and dipping down to feel his perfect ass. His hands raked through your hair as his lips, tongue and teeth continued to lavish you. His hands ran down your sides, enveloping you and pulling you flush against him. You moaned when you felt his erection against your belly, pressed so tightly against you it almost hurt. You knew exactly how this affected Dean; how delicious the friction was and how painful the constriction of his pants was. Wasting no more time torturing him, you pulled at his waistband.  
“Get naked,” you smiled against his neck and bit down so hard it must hurt a little. Dean gasped and hurried to comply. Taking advantage of the Dean-less moment, you hurriedly removed your own clothes.  
It had really been less than 24 hours since you had this the last time, but you had spent that day learning to be him, learning to love yourself. As crazy and cool an experience it had been, this felt like coming home after weeks on the road. Home.

“You have no idea how perfect you are, do you?” Dean was starting his pillow talk routine, and there it was; the things that had changed.  
“I didn’t. But now I do. Because I’ve seen myself with your eyes.”  
“Yeah.” Dean didn’t say anything else but it’s all he needed to say. The rest was in his eyes, locked with yours. The dark green windows to his soul, saying _‘Dean Winchester doesn’t say I love you. I’ll never say that. But fuck yeah, I do.’_


End file.
